The Busselton Mardi Gras
by dracoredeemed
Summary: Mardi Gras comes to Busselton pop.279 and so does someone Harry and Draco definitely do not want to see. Sequel to The Long Walk Home. H/D Slash. Warning for pure crack.


Disclaimer: Are you kidding

Disclaimer: Are you kidding? JKR would love this if she read it! LOL. Okay, the standard stuff applies. Jo owns them and I am just toying with them for entertainment, not profit.

A/N: This is the unofficial and unendorsed Epilogue to The Long Walk Home. Unofficial because it is pure crack, and unendorsed because I am pretty sure TLWH Harry and Draco would die of sheer mortification if they knew about it. It will make more sense if you've read The Long Walk Home first. If you can't be bothered reading it (it's pretty longish at about 25k words), you'll need to know that Harry and Draco are in hiding from the wizarding world and their names are now Jim and Phil.

For Aandune, as a reverse birthday present from me.

**The Busselton Mardi Gras!**

**By dracoredeemed. **

"So, have all the deliveries come?" Harry walked into the bar distractedly, his pen poised over a pad.

When he looked up, Draco nodded, "Yep," and went back to stacking glasses. "As far as I know. We've got three cartons of Malibu, two of Pina Colada, ten of Alcopops, and twenty of chardie." Placing the last glass in its place on the shelf, he leaned down to open one of the boxes. "I don't know how we'll manage to keep these Alcopops cool. The fridges are all full already."

Harry flopped onto a stool and leaned over the bar thoughtfully. "Dry ice?" he suggested. "We could fill the laundry tubs."

Draco stood up with several colourful bottles in each hand and leaned in to kiss his lover on the lips. "Where have you been, anyway? Les has been looking for you."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. "He's seriously not still considering wearing that thong, is he? God, Mike'll kill him."

Draco smirked and placed the bottles on the counter. "Leave him alone! I've always thought a beer belly goes well with chaps." Harry stuck his tongue out and made a gagging sound. "What? I thought you liked chaps. At least that's what you said last Sunday when we were playing--" Draco stopped when Duke, the co-owner of the pub, walked in. He leaned forward and continued in a stage whisper, _"—hide the sausage_."

Harry coloured spectacularly as Duke pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, a grin playing across his mouth. He was a large, middle-aged man with a podge, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. "Now, now, lads. Best save it for after the festivities. From what I hear, people are coming from all over. I never realised how starved for entertainment people are in these parts." He placed the cartons he had been carrying on the bar and sat down on the stool next to Harry. "Actually, I never realised how many gay people there are in these parts," he continued thoughtfully. "Must be something in the water."

"You don't have to be gay to enjoy Mardi Gras, mate." Harry cuffed him over the back of the head. "I have known a straight person or two in my time who enjoyed kicking up their heels."

"No, I mean since you and Phil here," he indicated Draco, who was opening and sampling one of the new Alcopops that had just arrived, "came out, just about every bloke in these parts has admitted to playing for the other team." His brow furrowed thoughtfully again at that and he cocked his head to one side. "Makes me wonder what I'm missing out on."

Draco sputtered orange liquid across the bar, drenching Harry's crotch in the process. Harry looked down and squirmed against his wet jeans in disgust. "Well, don't try anything on me." Duke raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender and burst out laughing.

"Hey. There's an idea." Draco smirked as wiped his dripping chin and handed Harry a towel. "A wet boxer contest!"

Harry looked at him pointedly. "Bloody hell, don't give him ideas!" Taking the towel, he dabbed at his wet crotch. "And don't even _think _about getting out there in _your _underwear," Harry growled and Draco couldn't help but smirk at the possessive tone of his voice.

"What? Me?" He shook his head innocently. "No, no, no. I was thinking maybe _you_…."

"Fuck off!" Harry looked aghast at the suggestion and Draco and Duke both burst out laughing. Harry rolled his eyes and dropped the cloth back onto the bar. "Urgh, I am going to change," he growled as he got up from his stool and headed for the stairs.

"Don't forget your tho-oong!" Duke called after him in a sing-song voice, which was considerably difficult given his usual baritone. They both burst out laughing again as Harry turned and gave them his dirtiest look before stomping up the stairs and out of sight.

"God, he's easy to bait." Duke grinned.

"You know it."

--

By noon the next day, the bar was already filling with revellers dressed in all manner of weird and wonderful costumes. The unseasonably freezing weather had not deterred the chaps, thongs, tiny vests, and even tinier singlets from appearing; nor did it deter the stilettos, fishnets and lacy knickers, and those were just the men. The women, bless them, had gone all out, many of them appearing in abbreviated, very tight school uniforms, or sparkling, tasselled bras and feathered tiaras—oh, wait, that's still the men.

Or is it…? Oh never mind; suffice to say that, on this particular Fat Tuesday in Busselton (pop. 277), both sexuality and gender were two ivery/i fluid concepts, and the nearest Marks and Spencer had completely sold out of everything made of rubber, sequins, shiny beads, and feathers. It was a glorious sight to behold indeed.

Blonde wigs abounded, as did ostrich feathers and bright blue eye shadow, and I swear there were at least seven different kinds of superheros in varying states of undress, strutting around in super-tight speedos and capes or thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots and bustiers. Wonderbra could have retired triumphant on the amount of latex that graced the tits of the participants in that gloriously overdone event that was the Busselton Mardi Gras. It was a party of the kind that rural England had never seen, and it was fated to leave its indelible mark on this usually quiet and conservative little country haven. Of that, there was little doubt.

And so it was that it was with not a little excitement that Les stepped through the door of the pub and waved to Harry, who was helping out behind the bar, his relatively conservative tank top and tight jeans a sharp contrast to the sparkling, sequined costumes around him.

"Yoo-hoo!! Jim!" Les jumped up and down, waving his arm to catch Harry's attention, his ample abdomen dancing excitedly over the waistband of his chaps. Harry looked up in time to see his long-time friend throw an unsuspecting drag queen over his arm in a low dip and snog her senseless.

"Les!" he called out. "Nice outfit. What'll it be?" He picked up a pint glass but quickly dropped it back onto the tray when Les shook his head adamantly as he squeezed in between the patrons who were crowding the bar.

"Not today, you gorgeous hunk. I'll have a Pina Colada with two umbrellas, love!" Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hair, but he pulled out the Pina Colada mix and did his best Tom Cruise imitation, eventually setting the elaborate cocktail on the counter with a flourish. "Not bad. Not quite as fancy as Phil's though," Les remarked as he scanned the bar with interest. "Where is lover boy, by the way?"

"He's organising the wet boxer contest. And you keep your bloody eyes to yourself, you hear? He's mine!"

"Oooo, Jim." Les pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows provocatively. "Methinks someone is just a little Jeee-luuuuusssss!"

Harry growled menacingly, but then his mouth twitched. He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially into Les's ear. "Fuck, you should see him, Les. He's like sex on legs. Gah!"

Les smirked again and cocked his head. "Better keep your eyes on him then, love." He took a step back when smoke appeared to emanate from Harry's ears. "Whoa! Just kidding, mate." He threw his hands up in mock surrender and Harry visibly relaxed.

Draco came up behind Harry at that moment, snaking his arms around his waist. "Hey gorgeous." Harry greeted him. "I must say, you look hot as. Fancy a fuck?" Draco was wearing new leathers, and the trousers were so tight you could take a measurement.

Draco leered at him over his shoulder before turning to rake his eyes over Harry's own delectable arse. Leaning in, he kissed him gently on the neck. "Anytime, love."

"Awww, you two…. So sweet." Les batted his eyelids momentarily at the domestic tableau before him, before picking up his cocktail and swigging deeply. "Mmmmm. I could _live_ on these. Huzzah!"

Draco looked up through his lashes, in between licking and sucking Harry's neck. "Better watch those, Les. They're lethal."

"Nah. I'm a big bloke, in case you hadn't noticed. Got hollow legs." He grinned and downed the rest of his glass and Harry moved away from Draco so he could pick up the jug to refill it. He nearly dropped it, however, when the door to the pub opened and a tall blond figure entered the bar.

"Holy fuck! Is that who I think it is?"

Draco looked up sharply and surveyed the crowd until his eyes came to rest on the arrogantly severe figure of one Lucius Malfoy. "Oh, fuck." Draco took a step back, but before he could bolt, Lucius had caught his eye and their gazes locked. "I'm dead," he whispered.

"Just stay calm," Harry replied under his breath, green eyes watching intently as Lucius strode through the crowd toward the bar. Harry reached out and took Draco's hand under the counter and could feel him trembling. He knew Draco wasn't afraid of his father, but the shock of seeing him almost eight months after their disappearance from the Dorchester Hotel in London, had to be even more of a shock to his son than it was to Harry. Lucius glared at Harry imperiously before moving to stand in front of Draco.

"Well, well, so I have finally found you." He eyed Draco disdainfully. "Not to mention the great Harry Potter. And living like a Muggle, no less."

Les quickly took in the situation and moved to stand next to Lucius. Grabbing the other man's hand in his own, he smiled brightly as he shook it enthusiastically. "Well, no mistaking who you are, mate! Nice to meet you! I'm Les." He looked around the room and then back at Lucius. "Welcome to Mardi Gras in Busselton! Here, have a drink." He picked up the Pina Colada Harry had just poured and forced it into his hand.

Lucius pursed his lips and regarded the drink with obvious distaste. "Thank you, no. I am here to see my son."

"Aw, go on! It's a celebration." Les cuffed his shoulder and Harry and Draco looked at each other in alarm. "Hey, love yer costume, by the way." Les stood back and raked his eyes over Lucius expensive embroidered robes, taking in the solid silver buttons and highly polished dragon leather boots. "What are yer supposed to be? A Victorian queen? Well, you are bloody gorgeous. Now I see where old Phil here gets it."

Lucius sputtered for several moments, clearly unsure what was going on, so Les took advantage of his momentary lack of composure and lifted the drink out of his hand and to his mouth. "Drink, man. It's Mardi Gras!" Surprised, Lucius swallowed the yellow liquid that was almost being forced down his throat. He coughed abruptly and blinked, but then took the glass out of Les' hand and took another sip. Les nodded in approval. "I don't suppose you're gay, are yer? God, you are bloody gorgeous." Lucius sputtered into his drink then, nearly choking.

"Father," Draco began, but Lucius held up a hand as he fought to get control of his breathing again.

"Don't interrupt, son." He coughed a few times and took another long swig of the cocktail. "This nice man was talking."

Draco's eyebrows shot up into his hair and Harry turned toward him, barely hiding the smirk that played across his lips. Les shot them both a satisfied grin and turned back to Lucius. Taking him calmly by the arm, he inclined his head. "Let me introduce you to some of my friends. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to meet Blondie's hunky dad."

Lucius preened visibly and a slow smile spread across his face. "Well, of course… Les, is it?" he replied, allowing Les to take his arm. "One ought to be polite," he threw over his shoulder at Draco as Les led him away toward a group of leather-clad skinheads.

Draco turned to Harry with wide eyes. "I am living in an alternate universe. Did Les just pick up my father?"

Harry guffawed. "He loved it! Who knew?"

"God, you realise he hardly ever drinks. Doesn't have the head for it. One of those and he'll be under the table."

Harry continued laughing. "Well, this should be one interesting party." Pulling Draco towards him, he gently bit his earlobe before continuing. "Of course, we're going to have to Obliviate him."

"Goes without saying," was Draco's immediate reply.

--

And so it transpired that a mere two hours later one Lord of Malfoy Manor was found dancing on the bar in a leather jock strap and nipple clamps, lip synching "Love In This Club" into a Muggle microphone. The crowd was roaring and waving their hands and, when Les rocked up to the bar with a bucket of beads and doubloons, the roar became deafening.

"Throw me something, Mister!" Hands shot up around Lucius as people cat-called and begged for throws from the gorgeous blond man on the bar. Lucius obligingly gyrated before reaching into the bucket and drawing out a handful of beads and coins, tossing them with a flourish into the air, one by one, until the bucket was empty. Someone cranked up the volume then, and the whole room erupted into a gyrating, writhing mob, arms still waving, many holding colourful drinks garnished with fruit and little paper umbrellas. A more colourful sight there had never been in that small neck of the woods, and Harry and Draco congratulated each other on their success.

"You got the photos of Lucius?" Harry asked, handing Draco a bottle of lager.

"In the flesh. Literally." He smirked in reply. "This should give us blackmailing fodder for many years to come."

"Finally, love, we'll be safe." Harry leaned in and nuzzled Draco's neck.

"If we can ever get him out of here and back to the bloody Manor! I think we've created a monster!"

Just then, the man in question appeared on the other side of the bar, a feathery boa now gracing his scantily clad and oh-so-built form. "Draaaay…. Can I have another of those fluffy yellow drinks, love?" He swayed momentarily, before righting himself enough to perch on a stool.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Father?" Draco raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms in disapproval.

"Aw, come oo-oo-on, Dray. This is a party and I'm having fun!" Lucius pouted then and Harry nudged Draco gently with his elbow as he suppressed his laughter.

"Only if you let me take a picture of you in that wonderful outfit," Harry crooned persuasively. But Lucius didn't need to be asked twice.

"Oh, goody! Piccies!!" Grabbing Les, who was chatting to Mike, he pulled him into a hug and smiled cheesily as Draco raised the Muggle camera and took several quick shots, one with Les' fingers v'd cheekily above the back of Lucius's head.

"Come on, let's dance," Lucius cried as Harry handed him his drink. Pulling Mike and Les onto the floor with him, he stumbled through the crowd and took to dancing like a moth to flames.

"You know, Witch Weekly would pay good money for these." Harry waggled his eyebrows at his lover as he took the camera from him.

"Maybe, but I think I may have to Obliviate myself before the night is out."

Harry smiled at Draco with love in his eyes and leaned in to capture his lips. "Happy Mardi Gras."

"With you, love, every day is Mardi Gras." Draco returned his kiss with interest and the sun set on another glorious day in Busselton, where love had finally come to rest.

_Fin_


End file.
